Lindsey, the puppy is on the bottom, Lassie (no kidding, Lassie) is on top and that's Blackie, the pig chaser, sticking his nose in.
Written Wednesday, January 19, 2011
If you’ve read Matt’s blog (Group 81), you know that he was persistent and consistent in posting an amusing and insightful entry every day. He took great pride in it and he should, it’s a lot of work and a real commitment.
Having said that, Matt had the internet in his house in Apia. Note some differences between his circumstances and mine. He had internet, he had a house and he lived in the capital city. Matt occasionally struggled to come up with fresh topics each day. I empathize although things are still new enough to me that I see stuff to write about everywhere I look. My day to day routine, however, is nothing to write home about unless you’re hoping for a soporific.
It’s still summer vacation here so I’m not teaching yet. It’s a small village with very little to do other than volleyball (voli), going for a savali (walk), watching the ocean or Bingo. I don’t do voli and haven’t tried Bingo yet. So I don’t write a daily report of my activities. Today, though, I thought I would describe the last two days, to give you a detailed glimpse into my current Peace Corps reality. I promise, I won’t put you through this on a regular basis.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
As usual, I woke up about 6:30 a.m. I could hear roosters crowing, dogs barking, children yelling and a Samoan hymn playing full blast from a tinny radio. It was cloudy and overcast and I laid in bed contemplating staying home to work on my Samoan or heading to Salelologa to post on the blog and check for mail. I decided to be good and work on the Samoan.
Because it was cool and breezy and I was feeling lazy, instead of immediately hopping into the shower and getting dressed, I put on my robe and dragged my laptop out to the table in the fale.
My robe, by the way, was a gift from a friend to replace an identical one that had become embarrassingly ratty. It is described as a “patio dress” on the website that sells it and is floor length, has short sleeves and is made of a heavy t-shirt type of fabric. I would never consider wearing it in public at home. The first time I came out of my room with it here, the family asked me if I was going someplace special. I was, to brush my teeth.
After booting up my laptop, I started work on my current effort to learn Samoan. I’m copying a 3,000 plus list of vocabulary words into a small notebook. Or, what will be a series of small notebooks. I figure I can always have it nearby to study, or refer to when I’m stuck for a word. So far, I’m up to the “d” words.
After about an hour, the 18 year old came from the other fale with a cup of Koko Samoa, always a welcome treat, especially since I hadn’t had anything yet to eat or drink. I told her that I thought a rat had stolen the bait from the trap in my room. She went to check it out and came out with what she called a rat and I called a small mouse.
Her father came to see what we’d caught and I took photos. Then we talked about Samoan language for a few minutes before the conversation drifted and we started talking about various things and places. I pulled up some photos of my hometown on the laptop, then some other photos that included my home state of Arizona, along with some travel photos. We spent over an hour together talking, which was one of the longest conversations I’ve had since Ruta went back to New Zealand.
They left to go to Salelologa for the girl to take her driving test and I showered, dressed and went back to work on copying Samoan words. After another hour or so, I was hungry and wanted to move around, so decided to head out to find some food. My options were either to walk to the Tuisivi store to see if they had any sandwiches or keke pua’a left, or to walk the opposite way, toward my future house, to see if the lady was still selling avocados in front of her fale. I opted for the avocados and headed that way.
I was watching the sky and noted that the horizon was dark with a storm slowing moving our way. Still, a nice overcast, breezy day for a walk. I passed one woman selling cucumbers. She let me buy just one last week, although she sells them in groups of seven. Things are generally sold here in sizes suitable for a large Samoan family, which can make shopping for one challenging, and expensive. Plus there’s the palagi premium that most people charge me. PC told us during training that people in our village would be giving us prepared food, along with fruits, vegetables, koko Samoa, etc. and would never consider charging a PCV. I believe they were misinformed.
Anyway, I chatted with her for a minute and told her I’d buy a cucumber on my way back. I continued walking, keeping an eye on the dark clouds moving my way. I was in luck and the family selling avocados was there. I bought two perfectly ripe avocados for $2 and moved on to the faleoloa near my new house to buy a can of tuna. As I paid the $4.50 for the tuna, I chatted with my future family member about what was happening with the family and my house. Seems that the woman staying in the house had returned to Apia and the homeowner had said that if I showed up to let me know that I could move in any time.
At this point, I’ve got some concerns. The renovations to the home, which were supposed to be completed in December, then were going to be done last week, still have not begun. There were also some other small issues. I called the PC office and explained the situation. They agreed that it was best not to move yet. They’ll continue trying to contact the homeowner and sort things out. It’s frustrating for me and I’m sure for the PC staff. I’ve heard that there are several other volunteers are in similar situations.
So, I started trudging back to my fale, thinking that the dark clouds moving closer perfectly reflected my mood. I said “Malo” to a young man walking past me and then realized he was carrying a large basket made of palm fronds.
“Are you selling something?” I asked in my best Samoan, meaning really bad Samoan.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“This.” And showed me a packet made of the leaves of the breadfruit tree.
“What is in it?”
“Limu.”
Ah. Limu, a type of seaweed that looks like green blackberries and is delicious. Just hours before I mentioned that I haven’t seen limu for sale for weeks. The kid charged me $6, rather than the standard price of $5. I assume because I’m palagi, or maybe there was an upswing in the world market price of limu. In any case, I took the limu and kept walking.
I stopped at Moana’s faleoloa to see if they had any ‘apainu, and they did. I paid $2.50 for a can of Malaysian-made orange soda. Not the best, but cold and bubbly. The storeowner asked what was in the breadfruit ato (bag).
“Limu.”
“How much?”
“Six tala.”
“Too much.”
“Yup.”
I added the soda to my bag of goodies and crossed the street to buy a cucumber. She asked what was in the breadfruit ato (bag.)
“Limu.”
“How much?”
“Six tala.”
“Too much.”
“Yup.”
The good news about typical conversations is that it doesn’t really stretch my limited Samoan. I paid her $1 for the cucumber and headed off. After contemplating the clouds, I decided it was safer to head home to eat the avocado than risk getting soaked in the beach fale. The house was still empty when I got home, save for the dogs who seemed thrilled to see me.
After a lunch of crackers, peanut butter and avocado, I worked on my Samoan vocab some more, as the rain began to pour. The storm continued while I called a friend in the States. After the 37 minute call (that’s 7 tala for the first seven minutes followed by 30 free minutes), I retired to my bedroom with Mr. Kindle. The rain was still pouring down and the wind was blowing it into the open fale.
The family came home and brought me some of the limu I’d left on their table, along with a boiled banana, then retired to their respective fales to wait out the rain. I spent the rest of the day snuggled up with Mr. Kindle. Dinner was crackers and peanut butter, prepared and eaten on my mattress on the floor, by the light of my headlamp.
About 9 p.m. I heard a rustling, then a snap. I went out to find someone willing to see what the rat trap had caught this time. Just another small mouse.
More reading, until about midnight, then I turned off my headlamp and went to sleep to the sound of the rain, which had continued, unabated, all day.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I woke up after 7 a.m. to the sound of pouring rain, the steady beat of a too loud bass from someone’s boom box and a woman yelling. I was tangled up in the lava lava I use for a sheet and my down blanket. I didn’t really want to get up, but figured I might as well get moving. I was tired of sitting around and was hoping the rain would let up so I could catch the bus to Salelologa.
I headed to take a shower and found out that when it rains that hard, for that long, it’s not just humans that want to come inside. When I first stepped into the bathroom I noticed a large insect that I assume is a type of grasshopper. It was about 2 inches long, with wings and what looked like small horns. Then I noticed one of his friends on the other wall. I just ignored them as I stepped into the shower. You know how worms come out on sidewalks in the spring when it rains? Well, in Samoa, worms seem to come out into the shower. I tried washing them down the drain and that worked for some. The rest I just tried not to step on as I showered.
I used my still-wet bath towel from yesterday to get as dry as I could before getting dressed. I’ve started using my beer crates to store my clothes and love being able to see what options I have for clean clothes without having to paw through a suitcase.
Dragged the laptop out in the fale and gratefully accepted two slices of dry toast from the family for breakfast. They dined together in the other fale and brought the toast to me to eat while I type. They’ve left their fale now, some drove away in the car, others went into different fales on the compound to wait out the rain, which shows no sign of stopping.
I’m listening to a Ricardo Arjona CD that I bought in Guatemala. If I’m going to work on my Samoan, it’s probably best to turn off the Spanish music. Then again, I hear Mr. Kindle calling me…
Ok, Mr. Kindle won out. I read for a few hours then went back out to the fale. It was still raining and I had cabin fever. The 18 year old was in the kitchen, preparing food for their dinner. She chatted about her boyfriends for a bit and I wandered back to my fale. I worked on my Samoan and played some computer games.
The rain continued to fall. The family went to prayer service, which lasted over three hours. I made chili mac for dinner. That’s boiled macaroni and a small can of Hormel chili without beans. I served it with an avocado. It was delicious.
I was back in my room, reading and listening to the rain and the rats in my room when they returned from church. I asked if I could use the rat trap again and the 18 year old looked perplexed. “Is there a problem?” “No, I don’t think so. I’ll have to ask my dad.”
Fifteen minutes later she was back, talking about her boyfriend and I asked her about the rat trap. “Oh, we don’t know where it is. My dad will look for it.”
I was a bit perplexed, since we’d had the trap that morning. We’d also had a discussion about the fact that we were just finding baby rats and the parents were probably still in my room. Have I mentioned it’s a small room? Perhaps 10’ X 10’, which doesn’t leave a lot of room for the rats and I to share?
An hour later I was ready to retire for the night so asked again about the rat trap. “My dad can’t find it. Maybe tomorrow.”
This is a great example of my dilemma with communications in Samoa. Samoans don’t like to say no. Indirection is a big part of the culture. So, did they need the rat trap for someplace else? Were they tired of me asking them to bait it and remove the dead rats? Was the trap really lost? I don’t know. I may never know. And it’s still raining.
It is always enjoyable to read your descriptions of your experiences!
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